


Please Don't Tell Me How the Story Ends

by whispered_story



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Amnesia, Barebacking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt Jensen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6302131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2009, Jensen wakes up in Vancouver with a gorgeous, naked boyfriend and no memory of the past seven years of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Tell Me How the Story Ends

**Author's Note:**

> [art](http://vilabelle.livejournal.com/1268.html) by the amazing [vilabelle](http://vilabelle.livejournal.com)
> 
> beta'd by [dancing_adrift](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift/pseuds/Dancing_Adrift)
> 
> Title from Kris Kristofferson's "Please Don't Tell Me Where The Story Ends".

*

Jensen's phone vibrates just as the door falls shut behind him. It's a text from Chris, who's inviting him out to a party of a friend's friend that night.

He drops his bags onto the ground and sighs. The house is empty, the silence inside almost deafening, the air slightly stale. He's been gone for a few weeks, and part of Jensen is relieved to be back while another yearns to leave again, go somewhere else.

Even after several years, L.A. doesn't feel like home quite yet.

'Just got back from filming in North Carolina. Gonna hit the sack early,' he replies.

He leaves his bags where they are and stumbles into the living-room instead. He's dead on his feet and he flops down onto the couch with a yawn. His hair falls into his face, and Jensen wipes it away irritatedly. One day, he's just going to chop it all off, get a haircut that doesn't require any effort.

Curling up on the cushions, Jensen yawns and gets more comfortable. He switches on the TV just to fill the silence and drifts off.

+

Jensen wakes up in a bed.

There's a body spooning him, big and warm, with what feels like a very impressive dick nestled against Jensen's ass. It's a nice feeling, being held in someone's arms in a soft, comfortable bed. He isn't quite awake enough yet process the situation, the fact that something is very wrong about where he is. 

But then the fuzziness starts to clear and he's becoming more alert. Jensen wracks his brain, but has no idea who the man behind him is, can't remember taking anyone to bed the night before. In fact, the last thing Jensen remembers is falling asleep on his couch, alone—without touching so much as a drop of alcohol that would explain his suddenly spotty memory.

That's when the unease sets in, quickly turning to panic.

"What the," Jensen starts, and he quickly crawls out of bed, disentangling himself from long arms and legs. He stumbles to his feet and turns to look at the guy. He feels a little dizzy, hands trembling—not only doesn't he know the guy, he's not in his room, his house, either.

His bed partner makes a disgruntled noise, and Jensen stares down at him with wide eyes. He's massive, all broad shoulders and muscled arms, sprawled over the bed. His hair is messy and pink mouth parted, a bit of drool collecting at the corner of his lips. He looks oddly innocent.

Not like someone who would sneak into Jensen's house and kidnap him.

Kidnap. The word makes bile rise in Jensen's throat, his head spinning.

He backs away slowly, his heart racing, terrified the guy will wake up if he makes any noise while he creeps out of the bedroom.

He needs a phone, or maybe he can just run away. Screw being naked.

It's a good plan, and it keeps Jensen focused, keeps him from freaking the fuck out as he stumbles down the stairs on unsteady legs.

And then he reaches the landing of the stairs and is attacked by two huge dogs, and he screams involuntarily. He presses himself to the wall, trying to shield himself, but the dogs jump up at him, paws scratching against Jensen's thighs painfully and tongues licking at his arms, his chest.

"Jensen?"

Jensen snaps his head around, eyes widening when he sees the guy he was just in bed with standing at the top of the stairs. His eyes are equally wide, and he's fumbling with pulling on a pair of sweats.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the guy asks, sounding stunned.

"I—" Jensen starts, but he's unable to form a sentence.

"Jesus Christ. Harley! Sadie! Leave Jensen alone. Down," the guy snaps and comes down the stairs.

The dogs stand down instantly, tails wagging and tongues lolling out. Jensen isn't sure where to look, if he should watch the overgrown dogs or their overgrown owner.

"Jensen," the guy prompts. "God, look at you. There are scratches all over you. Why the hell would you walk down here naked? And not tell them to sit the hell down when they started jumping you?"

Jensen stares at the guy, a good few inches taller than him. He looks concerned, fingers brushing over Jensen's thighs before he searches his face.

"Are you okay? Talk to me."

"I—" Jensen starts again, but what could be possibly say? Let me go? Stop acting all concerned when you're obviously some psycho kidnapper?

"You what? Why are you even up?"

A hand comes up, touching his cheek and Jensen flinches away.

"Jensen. You're starting to freak me out. What's going on?" the guy asks, a deep frown on his face. "Are you sick?"

Sick, Jensen echoes in his head, like he's actually surprised Jensen is acting like this. Like Jensen should behave normal, maybe even be happy that he's in some stranger's house for unexplainable reasons and his escape was thwarted by two giant dogs. The guy is obviously absolutely crazy.

Fuck, he's not going to get out of here now.

"I'm going to throw up," Jensen says, staggering a little. And then he throws up all over his kidnapper.

The guy yelps, jumping back, and Jensen feels a second of vindication before his vision starts to swim a little. He feels arms coming around him, supporting him.

"Wow, okay," the guy mutters. "Through good and bad, right? Come on, bathroom."

Jensen feels woozy, and he wonders if it's the shock or maybe residue from some kind of drug that the guy must have used on him that's still coursing through his veins.

He lets himself be led to a bathroom, and he's about to make a dash to the toilet, feeling his stomach still rolling dangerously, when he catches sight of himself in the mirror and freezes.

That's not him. The face staring back from the mirror is not his.

Or well, it is his—same eyes, same nose, same mouth that Jensen has heard countless comments about all his life—but he looks different. His hair is all wrong, way shorter, and he looks older, his features a bit sharper, more grown-up.

"What happened to me?" he asks.

"Uh," the guy says, blinking at Jensen's reflection, his hand absently stroking down Jensen's arm. "Nothing? Apart from being sick, obviously. And really, once you feel better I'm gonna rub this in your face, like, forever. I have your puke all over me."

Jensen ignores the guy and gapes at himself, studying his reflection more closely, eyes going up and down rapidly as he tries to take himself in. He looks stronger, broader, yet his stomach looks a little softer like he's gained a few pounds overnight and holy shit, Jensen definitely aged. Within less than 12 hours.

"Jensen?" The guy turns him around with gentle, but insistent hands and presses his palm against his forehead.

"You don't have a fever," he murmurs. "But maybe I should take you to the doctor's anyway. You're being really weird."

"Doctor's?" Jensen asks, because what kidnapper is willing to take their victims to a doctor? Or anywhere outside the house? Jensen is pretty sure this guy is supposed to lock him up in a basement or some shit like that, and make sure Jensen never sees the light of day again, so he can't tell another person about this.

"I know you're not a fan of doctors, babe, but you're really starting to freak me out." The concern in his voice sounds genuine, and if things were different, Jensen would probably believe him.

"Right," he says.

The guy sighs.

"Come on. Let's get both of us cleaned up, and then we'll discuss this doctor thing, okay? But just so you know, you're definitely not going to set today. I'll call Bob."

"Bob," Jensen repeats.

"Yeah. I don't think I can swing staying here with you, but you're definitely not working today."

"Okay," Jensen says slowly. He just finished his scenes on Dawson's Creek for the new episode and he's off for a few weeks—there's no work Jensen has to get to, and this whole fucking thing is not making any sense. Maybe it's an alternate reality, he thinks, or aliens.

"Come on," the guy murmurs, stroking his hand down Jensen's back. "Do you need to throw up again or are you good?"

"Good," Jensen replies automatically. His stomach is still rolling, but more with unease than the actual need to puke now. Something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong, and Jensen is starting to think it's not kidnapping.

"Okay, let's go back upstairs. Think you can make it or do you want me to carry you?"

Jensen can't help but snort, and the guy smiles at him, dimples carved deep into his cheeks.

"Worth a shot," he says, shrugging.

He leads Jensen back upstairs, shooing the dogs away. There's a pool of vomit by the stairs, and Jensen grimaces, but lets himself be guided back up the stairs. He feels kind of numb, and he wonders absently if he's gone into shock.

Upstairs, Jensen is told to take a shower while the guy just takes off his sweatpants and wipes puke from his chest.

"I'll go clean up the hallway and take a quick shower downstairs," he says when Jensen looks at him. "You take your time and don't worry about a thing."

"'kay," Jensen says, nodding carefully. He's not sure what to do, but he thinks maybe following the guy's directions and not questioning things is his best option right now. Maybe later, when he's cleaned up and thinking more clearly, he can try to sort things out. This is definitely not what kidnapping is supposed to be like. Whatever's going on, it's completely fucked and Jensen doesn't know what to do, or how to fix it. So he takes a shower, and tries very hard not to freak out again.

The hot spray raining down on him—from a seriously amazing shower-head in a seriously huge shower—makes him feel a little better. He stays in the shower longer than necessary, his mind purposely blank. He focuses on the sound of the water rushing down and the absolute normalcy of taking a shower.

He towels off quickly after he's done and wraps the towel securely around his waist. There are a few scratches on his thighs from the dogs, but they don't look too bad, and Jensen only dabs them dry before walking out of the bathroom.

"Hey Bob, it's Jared," tall guy is just saying into the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear. He's already dressed, damp hair curling around his face. When he spots Jensen, he waves his hand at his phone.

"I just wanted to let you know that Jensen's not coming into work today," he continues, giving Jensen a small smile. He picks up a small pile of clothes from the bed and holds it out to Jensen.

Jensen takes the offered clothes.

"Nah, don't worry. He's just sick," Jared says after a moment of silence. "Yeah. No way is he up for working today. He was throwing up just a few minutes ago. Think we can maybe film my scenes and postpone Jensen's?"

Jensen clutches the clothes to his chest and listens intently to the conversation. Filming. Like, both of them—like they're working on a set together, and that can't be right, because Jensen knows his co-stars and none of them are tall, dark, and—undeniably, because even Jensen isn't that blind—handsome.

The whole situation is so completely fucked up and confusing, and Jensen feels his throat constrict.

Jared gives him a small frown. He covers the earpiece for a moment.

"Get dressed, babe, and get back into bed," he whispers.

"Right," Jensen mutters, distractedly. He tries to put on the sweatpants without dropping the towel, clutching it around his hips with one hand, and keeps listening to Jared wrap up the phone conversation.

"You're off the hook for today," Jared says when he puts his cell down onto the nightstand by the bed. "I have to go in, driver's picking me up in thirty. But I'll try to get home as soon as I can and I'll call you during breaks."

He gives Jensen a small smile, before waving at the bed.

"Well, get in," he says.

Jensen hesitates for a moment too long, Jared's expression going from relaxed to puzzled, and Jensen clears his throat.

"Right, yeah. Bed."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jared asks for what feels like the billionth time when Jensen settles back into the bed. The big, comfortable bed that they were sleeping in together earlier, and the thought makes Jensen's stomach roll unpleasantly again.

"Peachy," he lies. "Just, you know, feeling a bit crappy."

Jared sighs and sits down at the edge. He reaches out and runs his fingers through Jensen's hair, his touch careful and so goddamn loving that Jensen can't wait for him to leave. He needs to be alone, to freak out in peace and then figure this crap out.

"I'm sorry I can't stay with you," Jared murmurs, and then bends down and presses a soft kiss to Jensen's temple.

Jensen clears his throat uneasily.

"'s okay. Probably just need to sleep this off."

"Okay," Jared agrees, but he sounds unhappy. "I'll get you a bucket, in case you need to throw up again, and some water. Or do you want tea? Oh, and meds. Let me go look if we have some that are gonna make you feel better."

"Okay," Jensen answers hollowly.

For the next ten minutes, Jensen watches Jared come and go, loading the nightstand with supplies as if he thinks Jensen is going to die if every single thing a sick person could possibly need isn't within reaching distance. It's oddly endearing, watching this huge mountain of a guy fret, and Jensen can tell he's seriously worried about Jensen. He cares, and the thought makes something tug at Jensen's heart a little, because he can't remember the last time someone took care of him like that.

Sometime during Jensen's way-too-long shower, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing, he had come to the conclusion that Jared's not a kidnapper. He's not sure what's going on—Jensen's theories right now span from time-travel to alternative universe to someone having slipped him some seriously fucked-up drug—but what Jensen is sure of is that somewhere between last night and now he aged a few years and somehow ended up in a life where he's apparently in a relationship with a guy he assumes is his co-star.

He's startled out of his thoughts by the sound of a car honking outside, and Jared sighing.

"Okay, that's my cue," he says, unhappily. He sits down at the edge of the bed again. "Get some rest, and call me if you need anything. I'll keep my phone on me the whole time."

"Yeah," Jensen agrees, and tries to give Jared a reassuring smile.

Jared returns the smile and leans down, cupping Jensen's cheek and pressing a gentle kiss between Jensen's eyebrows.

"Love you, Jen," he murmurs, and then sits back. "See you tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, 'kay," Jensen replies, and he does not watch Jared leave the room, all long legs and broad shoulders and perky, perfect ass.

He sighs when he finally hears the front door shutting and moments later the sound of a car driving off. For a few moments, he relaxes into the pillows, and it's then that he realizes that all the weirdness and stress must have given him a headache, because his head is pounding and his eyes feel all gritty and are starting to burn. He tries to ignore the pain, takes in the silence, before he rolls out of bed.

"Okay, Ackles," he mumbles to himself. "Get it together and figure this shit out."

Jensen looks around the room, trying to find any clue, and for the first time he really takes in his surroundings. The room is big, way bigger than his own bedroom in his house, and it's dominated by the seriously huge bed he was lying in seconds ago. There's not much in the room—nightstands cluttered with stuff on either side of the bed, a big closet and a large dresser with a mirror hanging over it. Still the room looks comfortable, lived in. Clothes are scattered around, a couple pieces of art on the walls, and the furniture is all made from dark, rustic wood.

It's a home, a room that is obviously lived in, and it makes Jensen feel horrible because he doesn't recognize a single thing in it, doesn't belong here.

He decides to look through the nightstands first, figuring it's probably the best place to find something personal. Something to give him a clue as to where he is and what the fuck is going on.

He flushes a little when he opens the top drawer and the first thing he sees is lube, and then silently berates himself because he is not a blushing virgin, dammit. And what did he expect? He woke up completely naked with this guy, so of course they're having sex. And it's not like Jensen was waiting for marriage—ask any of his friends and they'd probably tell you that he isn't what you'd call chaste.

He pushes the items on top aside and roots around a little. There's nothing really interesting—a pen, a box of kleenex, hand lotion, a flashlight, a vibrator (Jensen wonders briefly if it's his or Jared's nightstand, and then thinks it probably doesn't matter if they're sleeping together anyway), and a half empty box of condoms buried at the very bottom. In the second drawer there are a couple of books, titles Jensen can't remember ever hearing off, and a few scripts but nothing that rings any bells.

The insides of the other nightstand are just as useless—he finds more lube and thinks at least he's having fun with a hot guy in this alternate reality or whatever—but then Jensen spots a wallet and a cell phone lying on top of the nightstand, behind to the water and meds Jared had carefully laid out for him. He assumes it's his phone, because he saw Jared pocketing his own before he left.

He checks the wallet first, and finds his ID inside. There's an L.A. address on it that he doesn't know and the photo of an older version of him, lines on his face he didn't have before and his hair short and spiky. At least, he thinks bitterly, he's still hot even if he's gotten old. The other things aren't any more conclusive—a driver's license with the same address, a membership card to a gym in L.A., two credit cards with his name on them, some cards from people and businesses Jensen doesn't know, and money. There's nothing really interesting or surprising in the wallet, nothing that screams 'hey you're in an alternate universe and here's how you get back home'.

He grabs the cell phone next and sits back down on the bed. For a moment, he holds it in his hand and frowns, because it looks nothing like his Nokia. It's just a huge screen, and Jensen taps the tiny button under it and bites down on his lower lip. He's far from a technology whiz, and it takes him an embarrassingly long time to figure the thing out.

Jensen breathes a sigh of relief when he finally finds the list of contacts. There are more than a few names he doesn't recognize, but enough people Jensen knows to assure him he's at least not been abducted by aliens and living on some other planet (not that Jensen ever really believed that, but you never know). There are the names of his parents, his siblings, friends he's known for ages.

For a moment, Jensen considers calling someone—his dad maybe, or his brother—but then he thinks it would probably just freak them out if he asked them what the hell was going on and who the tall guy in his bed was.

Instead, he skims through the phone a bit more. There are a few saved text messages. Some are from people Jensen doesn't know and they don't really make much sense to him, but there's one from Chris telling him to get his ass back to L.A. sometime soon to hang out.

He wonders where he is if not L.A., and thinks maybe he's back in North Carolina shooting Dawson's Creek when he suddenly notices the date when the text was sent. February 7th, 2009.

Two-thousand-fucking-nine.

Jensen swallows, and checks the date on the phone, which tells him it's February 13th. Friday. Jensen snorts and thinks of fucking course. It's Friday the 13th—for a moment he wonders if maybe that's the answer, if he's been cursed or some shit like that, and then he shakes his head.

"Curses don't exist, idiot," he mutters, and decides that the date is really just the universe being a huge fucking bitch. Instead, he focuses on the fact that it's, apparently, 2009. When Jensen fell asleep last night it was 2002, and while that momentarily makes panic bubble up in him, it makes sense. He looks older, after all, and he figures the fact that he somehow missed almost six and a half years is less freaky than aging years over night.

He rubs his temple and goes back to looking through the rest of the messages. There's one from his sister, from over a month ago, telling him how good it was to see him on Christmas and how much she misses his ugly face. It brings a smile to his face, and then he thinks if he's aged everyone else must have too and that means his little sister is, in fact, probably not so little anymore. 

He skims a few more texts, reading things here and there. He leaves the messages from Jared—presumably the Jared who he woke up to this morning—for last.

There are a whole bunch of them saved on the phone. There's nothing really poignant about them, but the randomness is enough to tell Jensen they're probably pretty close. Which the whole sleeping naked together thing really kind of already implied, but still. The texts speak of a familiarity that goes way beyond having sex together.

'Aaaah! Jensen!!!! There's a huge spider in the living-room. Come home! Save me!', one says, and it makes Jensen chuckle.

Another one simply says, 'Miss you. Can't wait to see you again.', dated on Christmas, following by a bunch of other messages detailing pretty much everything Jared was doing over the holidays, all the while bemoaning Jensen's absence.

'Bored. Come to my trailer when you're done,' another one says from a couple of weeks later, and then another, '@grocery store. white or red wine? steak or burgers? veggies or not?'. There are tons of messages like that, random and frequent, a lot of them about things Jensen doesn't get, names dropped in that he doesn't recognize.

It's the photos Jensen finds a couple of minutes later that really drive things home. A lot of them are just snapshots—places Jensen doesn't recognize, random signs or things Jensen must have seen and found amusing, and people he doesn't know either. And a whole bunch of pics feature Jared—Jared curled up in the backseat of a car, sleeping; Jared drinking a beer; Jared smiling into the camera; Jared reading a script; Jared wrestling with the huge mutts that attacked Jensen earlier; Jared and his own face smushed together, both of them grinning like dorks.

Jensen licks his lips, and looks down at the last photo. "Christ, Ackles, you got yourself a boyfriend," he says, and then laughs at himself.

Jensen has never been much of a relationship kinda guy; not since he came to L.A. anyway and his career took off. He's dated, he's had flings, he's been with a few guys long enough to probably call it a relationship, but nothing has ever really been serious. And maybe this isn't as serious as it looks right now either, but Jensen has a niggling feeling it is—because Jensen has made it a point never to date a co-star, and he can't remember ever having a bunch of texts and pictures of some guy saved like a love-struck teenager. And Christ, they live together.

With a sigh, he pockets the phone and gets up, deciding to check out the rest of the house.

The situation seems pretty clear now, though—it's 2009 and for some reason Jensen can't remember the last few years, but he's living in a house with a guy he apparently also works with.

He wanders downstairs aimlessly, taking in his surroundings. The house is nice—not a huge mansion, but comfortable and spacious. Big, open rooms, nice furniture, enough knickknacks to make it a home. It's more cluttered than Jensen's house, or the one he remembers living in anyway - not messy, but less neat, less organized.

In the living-room, Jensen is greeted by the two dogs. They're a bit less enthusiastic this time, but they run up to him with their tails wagging. Jensen kneels down and pets them, smiling.

"Hey, you two. Sorry if I scared you earlier," he says, laughing when the bigger one of the two dogs licks his face happily. "Okay, okay. You two are friendly, huh?"

He tries to divide his attention equally, scratching both dogs behind the ears.

"Sorry I can't remember your names," he says. "Hmm, but you're good dogs, aren't you?"

Eventually, he gets up, smiling to himself as the dogs follow him as he wanders around the living-room. He finds a whole bunch of framed photos—a couple of him with his family and Jared with what Jensen assumes is Jared's family. There's also one of Jared with Jensen's own family, Jared's arms wrapped around Jensen's chest from behind, all of them smiling. There are a couple of photos with people Jensen thinks are probably friends, and then some of just him and Jared. He picks one up where Jared is standing at his side, arm wrapped around Jensen's shoulder and hugging him close, kissing his cheek. Jensen is laughing, and Jared looks like he's grinning, and fuck, they look happy. They look absolutely in love, and it makes something unravel in Jensen's chest. For the first time since he woke up this morning, he feels like he can breathe properly, because whatever is going on, this Jensen, the person he has apparently become over the last six years, is happy.

Jensen puts the picture back down, and absently skims the shelves next to him. Rows of books, DVDs, CDs.

On the table he finds a script and a pair of glasses lying next to it. He picks it up, and skims it. Supernatural, it says, 4x18, and then flips through it. The dates for filming the episode tell him it must be what he's working on right now, and then he sees his own name, second just under 'Jared Padalecki'.

"Wow," he mutters, and one of the dogs lets out a high bark. He glances at them and grins. He's second lead on a show, one that's apparently been on air for four seasons now. It's the kind of thing he's been working for, hoping for, for years now.

"Damn, Ackles," he murmurs to himself, still grinning.

Both dogs wag their tails happily.

"Not bad, huh?" Jensen asks them, and skims the first few pages. The whole thing seems kind of confusing, but given that the title of the show is Supernatural, Jensen assumes it must be some kind of sci-fi show. So maybe not Emmy material, but it certainly better than Dawson's Creek.

He puts the script back down, and sits down on the couch with a sigh, wondering what to do next.

+

Jensen eventually gets tired of pondering the situation and snooping around the house for anything that will tell him more about himself and about who Jared is. He feels oddly guilty about looking through drawers and in every nook and cranny, like he's somehow invading someone's privacy, even though the rational part of his brain tells him he's in his own house.

When he finds keys on the dresser in the hallway, he decides to get dressed and go out, look around the neighborhood. He finds a heavy coat that fits him in the hallway, and after glancing outside and realizing that it's snowing, he looks around until he spots a scarf and gloves too. If it's snowing, he's definitely neither in L.A. then, nor somewhere home in Texas.

On a whim he takes the dogs when he spots leashes, because at least he's somewhat familiar with them by now and it makes wandering around wherever they are seem a bit less weird.

He's smart enough to note down the address of the house once he spies a street sign, and then just takes off in a random direction. Nothing about the area he's in is familiar, but the neighborhood is nice and peaceful, and he finds a park nearby that he spends some time with the dogs in. They tug at their leashes and Jensen feels bad about not letting them run around freely, but he doesn't even know their names and the last thing Jensen needs right now is letting one of them run away.

Eventually, he leaves the park and after taking a few random lefts and rights he finds himself in a street with a few shops and stores. He walks down the street slowly, taking everything in, trying to figure out where he is. It doesn't take long, and when he sees 'Vancouver' in the name of a store, he thinks 'huh, okay. Vancouver then.' before he comes to a halt.

"Canada. We're in freaking Canada," he says out loud, and someone passing him gives him weird look. One of the dogs tugs at the leash, and Jensen looks down at them and sighs. "Well, I guess my career maybe hasn't taken off after all then," he mutters dryly.

+

Jared calls him while he's still wandering around the streets to check up on him.

"Jen, where are you?" he asks after a car drives by, and Jensen licks his lips.

"Uh, outside."

"You're sick," Jared says, tone admonishing.

"Uh, yeah, I just thought some fresh air might be good."

Jared sighs.

"Don't stay out too long. It's freezing cold."

"I've noticed," Jensen replies sarcastically, and Jared chuckles softly.

"Sounds like you're feeling better," he says. "But I'm serious, don't stay out too long. You looked pretty bad this morning, and if you catch pneumonia or some shit like that I'll kick your ass."

For a moment, Jensen wonders if Jared means literally, because the guy’s got a few inches and more than a few pounds of muscles on him and could probably break Jensen like a twig. But then Jensen remembers how Jared had been this morning, the way he was doting on Jensen.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," he says, and decides not to tell Jared that he's already been outside for a couple of hours anyway.

"How are you feeling otherwise? Better?" Jared asks.

"Definitely," Jensen replies, and it's not even a lie. He's confused as hell, and scared by the whole thing, but he realizes he's not as freaked out anymore.

"Good," Jared says. "Still, try to get some rest, okay? I'm probably gonna be back late, but I'm gonna call you again later."

"Okay," Jensen agrees.

"Bye," Jared says, and his voice is soft, sweet, before he hangs up.

After the phone call, Jensen decides maybe he really should head home, sick or not. He's feeling cold and a bit tired.

He has to ask people for directions back to the house, and he's relieved when he finally makes it, and is back inside where it's warm.

+

By the time Jared gets home that evening, Jensen is already in bed. He's exhausted, emotionally worn-out, and he still has a small headache.

He's curled up under the covers, bedside lamp turned on, thinking the whole situation over for the billionth time, wondering what to do. He listens to the noise of Jared puttering around downstairs for a while, before heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs.

Jensen looks up when the door to the bedroom opens with a soft creaking sound and Jared pokes his head in.

"Hey," Jared says, and smiles, stepping into the room. "You're awake."

"Yeah."

"How're you feeling?" Jared asks, and sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Okay," Jensen says with a shrug. "Headache."

Jared runs the tips of his fingers down Jensen's temple, touch feathery soft. "Want me to get you some painkillers?"

"Nah, it's not that bad."

"Okay," Jared says, then frowns. "Might be from the stunt last night. I know you got a thick skull and everything, but knocking your head that hard would have given anyone a headache."

Stunt, Jensen thinks, and then, oh. Oh. That probably explains things—it makes a lot more sense than time-travel or alternative universe anyway.

Jared scoots a little closer.

"I should have thought about that this morning," he says. "Man, you might have a concussion or something. Would explain the puking."

"Yeah," Jensen agrees distractedly, and bites down on his bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should tell Jared, that maybe they can find a way to fix whatever's wrong with his head, but something's holding him back, the words not coming out. He thinks of the photo downstairs, and the texts and photos on the phone, thinks about how sweet and caring Jared has been, and finds himself suddenly craving it. He's never had this, and he wants it—wants to know what it's like to feel as happy with someone as he looks in the photos with Jared, to feel this close to someone. And if he tells Jared now, tells him that he doesn't remember, then things will be different. And if Jensen never remembers the last few years, remembers who Jared is and what they are to each other, then—

It's a ridiculous thought, acting as if nothing happened and faking being the Jensen from 2009, but the moment it pops into Jensen's head he can't let go of it. Just for a bit. Just for a day or two. Just so he knows what it's like to be the guy that actually has someone, that is loved and taken care of and seems to be so damn happy.

He stops the thought right there, swallows thickly.

"Jen, you okay?" Jared asks, sounding worried. "Hey, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm good," Jensen says thickly.

"Are you sure?" Jared asks. "Look, if you felt crappy this morning because of last night, maybe you need a doctor after all."

Jensen thinks Jared is probably right, but he shakes his head anyway.

"No. No, just...I think I just need a few more hours of sleep, is all."

Jared looks doubtful, but he finally nods.

"Okay," he says. "I'll go take a quick shower and then I'll join you."

"It's early," Jensen says quietly. "I mean, you don't have to go to bed this early just because of me."

Jared chuckles lightly.

"Today was pretty exhausting," he says. "I'm really not gonna mind going to bed early—or hell, spending the whole weekend in bed with you."

Jensen smiles softly and nods.

"'kay."

Jared grins and leans down, kissing Jensen. His lips are soft, warm, and the kiss is light and sweet, just lips brushing together. Jensen has been kissed plenty of times, but it feels different to be kissed by Jared—by someone who knows him and loves him, even if Jensen can't remember.

"I'll be right with you," he murmurs before drawing back and getting up.

Jensen lies back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling in the dim light of the room, and wonders what the hell he's doing. He's lying, pretending, and he feels guilty about it, but he wants this. Just for a while, he wants to know what this Jensen's life is like, what it's like to have someone like Jared. Just in case.

He's not gonna be able to pretend forever, but maybe for a bit, he thinks, just for now. For tonight.

He listens to the sound of the shower running, drifting off slowly. The sound of the door opening startles him awake again. He looks up and swallows thickly, because Jared is naked. He's felt the press of his dick against him this morning, seen him shirtless, but he'd been too freaked out to really focus on anything, but now he takes it all in. Jared is freaking gorgeous—incredibly tall and built, like a freaking statue come to life, and Jensen suddenly feels a flash of irritation at himself. At the version of himself that gets to have this, and then was stupid enough to forget.

The feeling passes when Jared grins at Jensen, and walks right over to the bed without getting dressed. Jensen feels stupid for lying there in a t-shirt and boxers, and he scratches his neck nervously when Jared crawls right under the covers.

He shuffles close, nuzzling Jensen's neck and pressing a kiss to his skin there, and Jensen's eyes flutter closed automatically as he lets out a deep breath he didn't know he was holding.

Jared makes a soft humming noise, his hand sliding under Jensen's t-shirt and rubbing over his stomach in slow, soothing circles. Jensen can feel Jared's cock against his hip, soft and big, and his stomach swoops with both want and nerves. Jared might be a complete stranger to him right now, but there's something niggling in the back of Jensen's mind. Something that tells him he's safe with Jared, that makes him relax into Jared's touch. He's not sure if it's because he knows that Jared technically isn't a stranger, or if there's a part of him that just knows Jared, that remembers.

"Jared," he murmurs.

"Hmm?" Jared asks, and lifts his head, lips finding Jensen's. He kisses him—really kisses him this time, gentle but insistent, coaxing Jensen's lips apart and not letting up. There's just a bit of tongue, slick and smooth and perfect, and his hand keeps stroking Jensen's skin while the other comes up to rest on his neck.

The kiss alone is enough to make Jensen feel the first tingles of arousal. It feels better than anything Jensen has felt in a long time, and it's like Jared knows just how to kiss him, how to touch him. Jensen wonders if they've been together for a long time, maybe, if this is what it feels like to be with someone who knows you so well he can push all your buttons, get to from zero to sixty with just a kiss.

He buries his hands in Jared's hair and pulls him in closer, kissing back eagerly, wanting more.

Jared's hand slides lower on his stomach, creeping under the waistband of his boxers until he's palming Jensen's hip, fingertips pressing into skin. Jensen moans against Jared's lips and shifts restless against him, seeking more contact.

"Shit," Jared hisses, breaking the kiss. He props himself up on one arm and looks down at Jensen. "Sorry. Sorry, babe."

"What? No," Jensen starts and lifts his head, aiming for another kiss.

Jared chuckles and twists away.

"Jen, you're sick. You have a headache," he reminds him. "We shouldn't. Not tonight. You need sleep."

"I'm okay," Jensen answers.

Jared shifts away a little, settling down with his head next to Jensen's on the pillow, but his hand remains curved warmly around Jensen's hip, thumb stroking the skin absently.

"You're horny," he murmurs with a snort. "But you should get some rest. Me too. We have the whole weekend for this, right?"

Jensen sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

"Yeah, okay," he mutters.

Jared laughs softly and tugs him close, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

"Let's go to sleep," he suggests. "If you feel better tomorrow, we can take the dogs for a long walk, and then swing by a grocery store and get some decent food. Good old Texan chilli, maybe."

Jensen hears it then, the familiar drawl in Jared's voice. The accent isn't thick, but it's there, and Jensen smiles, thinks 'of course'. The guy just keeps getting better and better, and Jensen silently congratulates himself for having an awesome taste in men. Well, in this man.

It reminds him of the saying his mother used to say when he was a kid, about having to kiss a lot of frogs before you find a prince. He's pretty sure she changed it to princesses for him, at least until Jensen realized he was gay and came out. The point is, there have been some frogs for sure, but they were all worth it if this is what Jensen gets rewarded with in the end. A tall, gorgeous guy from Texas who is just as sweet as he is hot.

Jensen snuggles closer, hoping his behavior isn't too out of ordinary, and enjoys the feel of warm skin and hard muscles against him, of being held close.

Jared shifts, leans over him and switches out the light, before he lies back down and pulls Jensen close again.

"Night, Jensen," he murmurs, and Jensen sighs, turning his head to brush his lips over smooth skin.

"Night," he echoes.

+

When Jensen wakes up, it takes a moment for him to remember the day before. For a moment, his chest tightens but then he breathes out and relaxes.

"Morning," Jared murmurs, still pressed close against him, and Jensen feels a brush of lips against his temple.

"Morning," he replies softly, and closes his eyes again for a second, taking it all in. Under the cover, it's incredibly warm and cozy, and Jared feels amazing, their bodies all tangled up in each other.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Jared says. His tone is light, teasing.

"Right. Yeah. I," Jensen fumbles, panic spreading in him because this is going to fuck everything up. Do they celebrate this day? Is Jared going to expect a present that Jensen can't deliver because he doesn't know where it is, if he even bought one? Jared is going to be pissed or maybe he'll realize the guy in his bed isn't really his boyfriend.

Jared chuckles.

"I know, I know," he says, kissing Jensen's cheek. "It's a stupid fake holiday that is really just about consumerism and not love at all."

Jensen breathes a sigh of relief.

"Yeah," he agrees. Jared grins, dimples deep and teeth perfectly white and fuck, the guy is pretty.

"Can I still tell you that I love you?" he asks. Jensen nods. "Good. I love you, you unromantic old man."

Jared sticks out his tongue and Jensen can't help himself. He turns into Jared and catches his lips in a kiss, his arms sliding around Jared.

Jared pulls back after a short moment.

"How's your head?"

"Fine," Jensen mumbles. He strokes his hand down Jared's back, feeling the smooth warm skin under his palm, and then halts when he reaches the swell of Jared's ass. "You're wearing boxers."

Jared chuckles.

"I got up earlier and let the dogs out," he says. "You were out like a light, man."

"What time is it?" Jensen asks, flopping onto his back and squinting at the nightstand until he spots an alarm clock.

"Past ten," Jared answers. "Not too late."

"Hmm," Jensen hums, and tugs the blankets higher. The air in the room is a bit chilly, and now that the whole Valentine's Day panic is over, he feels lazy and content. He reaches out blindly until his hand finds Jared's arm and tugs him closer, because he can, because he craves being close to Jared in a way he's never felt like before.

Jared laughs softly and easily rolls on top of Jensen, grinning down at him. The weight of his body on Jensen's is exhilarating—exciting in its unfamiliarity, but despite that there's something there.

Jared dips down and kisses him, and Jensen can taste the fresh, minty toothpaste on his lips.

"Morning breath," Jensen mumbles against Jared's lips and Jared laughs, pulling back.

"Oh please," he says. "I've had worse."

"Yeah?" Jensen asks. Jared snorts and leans back down, kissing his jaw and down to the groove where his neck begins.

"Nothing's ever stopped me from kissing you, has it?" he murmurs. "All the things you’ve had in your mouth, or places your mouth has been..."

"That's gross," Jensen replies, but he tilts his head to the side, giving Jared better access to his throat. He gasps when teeth scrape over his pulse point, and he arches up unconsciously. The two layers of cloth between them do nothing to mute the sensation of Jared's cock against his, and Jensen moans, his hands scrambling to find Jared's hips, dragging him down to him.

"Fuck," Jared hisses, and he grinds down against Jensen. Jensen feels his cock swelling rapidly, can feel Jared's reaction just the same, and his legs fall apart under Jared, heels digging into the mattress to have more leverage to push up, move against Jared.

For a moment, he wonders if maybe they shouldn't be doing this, if he's completely fucked in the head for wanting this, but he can't help it. Jared is intoxicating.

"God, please," he sighs out.

Jared fumbles with the hem of Jensen's shirt, pulling it up, and they part for a moment so Jensen can pull it off, toss it aside carelessly. Jared has him pressed back into the mattress moments later, hands curled around Jensen's arms. He kisses down Jensen's chest, lips sealing around one nipple. Jensen has to bite down onto his lower lip to keep from whimpering, feeling the scrape of teeth, the swirl of Jared's tongue, and then a sharp tug that's just the side of painful.

"Jared," he groans, and Jared pulls back, running his tongue soothingly over the nipple.

"Shh, I'll get you there, babe," he murmurs. With any of his exes, being called babe would probably have triggered a less-than-favorable reaction from Jensen, but now he shudders, feels his body flush hotly. Jared's tone isn't belittling, his voice all silky and genuine instead.

Jared moves lower, pushing the blankets further and further down as he goes, his lips leaving a damp trail down Jensen's stomach. His hands loosen their hold on Jensen's arms, and he slides them down Jensen's sides with a long, smooth stroke instead, coming to rest on Jensen's waist as he peppers kisses over Jensen's stomach, nips at the skin.

Jensen's breath is coming out in harsh pants, and he feels dizzy with arousal, so damn hard he thinks he might explode before they even really do anything.

Jared draws back, sitting on his haunches between Jensen's legs, and grins. His hair is a mess, and his lips are pink and bruised, glistening with spit, and Jensen's stomach swoops.

His fingers slide under the elastic of Jensen's boxers, and Jensen lifts his hips automatically, letting Jared pull them down his legs, helping him out of them before tossing them aside.

Jensen flushes, feeling suddenly on display, completely naked and spread out in front of Jared.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Jared murmurs and he meets Jensen's eyes. The look he gives Jensen is tender, sweet, and Jensen thinks his heart skips a beat. He's pretty sure it does when the look on Jared's face transforms into something more mischievous, a grin tugging at his lips.

He scoots back, his hands curling around Jensen's inner thighs and nudging them further part. Jensen watches, holding his breath, as Jared ducks down and nuzzles his cock.

"Nnngh," he groans, and his head falls back, blinking up at the white ceiling dazedly when Jared licks a broad swipe up his dick. "Oh fuck."

Jared laughs softly, the sound vibrating against Jensen's skin, and then Jensen feels the wet heat of Jared's mouth on his right ball, sucking it into his mouth and rolling it around.

He doesn't resist when Jared presses his legs a little further apart and up, just lets Jared push and tug him into whatever position he wants. Jared knows exactly what he's doing, and Jensen wants it—wants whatever Jared is willing to give him.

Jared's mouth moves from his balls further down, and Jensen yelps when he feels the first swipe of a tongue over his hole. He's pretty sure his cock is oozing pre-come by now, feels the wet smear of it against his stomach. Jensen reaches down, tangles his fingers in Jared's hair when he applies pressure against his entrance, pushes the tip in and out, licks and nips, and Jensen is dimly aware of how loud he's being, whimpering and moaning, writhing on the white sheets.

Jensen is close to coming, can feel the tingles of his orgasm all over his body, when Jared pulls back.

"Jared," Jensen moans helplessly.

Jared crawls up, all over Jensen's body, and kisses him sweetly, one hand cupping his cheek.

"Mmm, in a second, baby. Promise," he murmurs, and he sounds pretty wrecked himself, his hard cock pressing against Jensen's stomach. "Wanna be inside you."

"Fuck, yeah. Okay," Jensen agrees. He probably would have agreed to anything in that moment, but he actually wants this. Jensen isn't opposed to bottoming, though he probably tops more—or at least 2002 Jensen did—, but in that moment he actually craves it. Wants nothing more than to have Jared, this gorgeous man who loves him, fill him up and fuck him into the mattress.

Jared shifts aside, fumbles around the nightstand, and then sits back with the lube held up triumphantly.

"Got it," he says, so fucking cheerful that Jensen chuckles softly. He watches Jared coat three of his fingers, and then he rearranges their bodies, pressing his knees out and hitching Jensen's body up so his thighs are splayed over Jared's. He leans over Jensen then, the movement lifting Jensen's ass up a little, and kisses him again. Jensen curls his hands around Jared's neck, and kisses him back eagerly.

The first touch of fingers against his hole feels cold, and Jared laughs against his lips when Jensen twitches. Jensen curls his fingers in Jared's hair and tugs hard in retribution, but then two fingers press into his body and he digs his fingers into Jared's scalp instead. He feels his muscles lock up for a split second, surprised by the sudden stretch, but it burns less than he expected, and Jared slides all the way in easily. He fucks his fingers in and out, coaxing Jensen's muscles to relax, and then adds a third finger.

He moves his fingers slowly at first, carefully, letting Jensen adjust, before he becomes a little bolder, twisting and pressing and stretching Jensen apart with his fingers and it sends sparks through Jensen's body.

"Okay?" he murmurs into Jensen's mouth. "Good?"

"Yeah," Jensen breathes back. "Yeah. 'm good."

Jared pulls his fingers out slowly, kisses Jensen a while longer, deep and insistent, before he pulls back. He reaches for the lube once more, slicking his cock up, and Jensen watches, transfixed by the way Jared's cock slides through the circle of his hand, big and red and hard.

It takes a moment before Jensen realizes what's wrong with the picture. Jared isn't wearing a condom.

"Jared," he starts, then stops.

"Mmm?" Jared asks, looking at him, and Jensen finds himself at a loss for words.

He bites his lip and then gives a small shake of his head, smiling.

"Nothing," he murmurs, and curls one leg higher around Jared's hips. If Jared isn't using a condom, then Jensen assumes it's something they do and that it's okay. He knows himself well enough that he knows he wouldn't let this happen unless they'd talked about it, gotten tested—unless he was really sure the other person was completely committed to him, and he was committed to them. The thought sends a thrill through him and he tugs Jared closer with his leg.

"Come on," he says, and smiles.

Jared grins and leans down for a quick kiss. "Pushy, pushy," he teases, and pinches Jensen's side.

"Well, hurry up already and I won't need to be pushy," Jensen replies, and his smile widens, the banter making him feel oddly giddy.

Jared laughs and kisses him again before he hikes Jensen's legs up higher, one over his shoulder, his hand resting on Jensen's thigh while the other reaches down, positioning himself. He moans when he feels Jared's cock push against his entrance, and then Jared adds more pressure and the head of his dick presses in. It burns a little, but not much, not nearly as much as Jensen expected from someone Jared's size. Jared slides in deeper, inch by inch, the feeling so much more intense than when it had been Jared's fingers, stretching him so much wider. It's amazing, and Jensen is pretty sure he's not gonna last long. He feels hot and flushed all over, and he tightens his legs around Jared, trying to drag him in deeper.

Jared makes soft, shushing noises, white teeth biting down on his pink bottom lip.

"You have no idea how good you feel," he groans, and pulls back a little before thrusting back in a little further. "Always so fucking good, baby."

"Yeah," Jensen moans, nodding his head frantically even though he's not even sure what he's agreeing to. "Jared. Jared, please. Come on."

Jared repeats the movement, sliding in deeper and deeper with each push of his hips until he bottoms out. He picks a rhythm then, fast and hard, and he leans forward, almost bending Jensen in half, and catches his lips in a hard, bruising kiss. It makes the muscles in Jensen's legs burn and he groans, surging up to meet Jared's kiss, keep him there.

Jared's fingers are digging into Jensen's legs, holding him in place, and he keeps thrusting into Jensen, his cock so smooth and hot without the latex, like nothing Jensen has ever felt before. His dick keeps dragging against Jensen's prostate, sending sparks of white, hot pleasure through him.

He comes all too soon, come splashing over both of their stomachs, and Jared groans, kissing Jensen's throat, mouthing at the skin. He keeps thrusting into Jensen with hard snaps of his hips, the movement getting a bit more uncontrolled, urgent.

Jensen's whole body is still buzzing with pleasure, muscles shaky and weak, and the sensation of Jared still fucking him is almost too much, yet it feels amazing, like Jared is everywhere, inside and out, falling apart.

When he comes, Jensen feels it, feels the warm spurts of come inside him, and he moans, turning his head to kiss whatever part of Jared he can reach.

Jared collapses on top of him, breathing raggedly, and Jensen strokes his hand down Jared's back absently, damp with sweat.

Jared hums, and then shifts a little, pulling out of Jensen carefully. Jensen makes an unhappy noise, first because of the sudden loss of Jared inside him, and then because he can feel Jared's come trickling out stickily as he moves.

"Ugh," he groans, and Jared laughs breathlessly, falling back down half on the mattress and half on Jensen.

"I'll get you a washcloth to clean up in a second," he murmurs. "Just give me a moment."

The thought of Jared getting out of bed has Jensen reaching out, pulling him close.

"Is okay," he mumbles and presses his lips to Jared's shoulder. "Nap first."

Jared snorts and runs a hand over Jensen's head.

"'kay," he replies. "Sleep, babe."

+

Jensen thinks about telling Jared about his memory loss when they finally make it out of bed a couple of hours later, but then he gets distracted by kissing him before dragging him outside with the dogs.

Confessing to Jared what's been going on right after they had—amazing—sex probably isn't the best idea anyway, he thinks. But as the day drags on, he starts to feel more and more guilty, because he doesn't want to lie to Jared. Not when Jared is so sweet and wonderful, and has no idea that Jensen is not his Jensen.

Jensen even makes a few attempts to tell Jared, but every time he halts and quickly changes the subject. He doesn't know how to tell Jared, knowing he'll probably hurt the guy, and how the hell is he going to explain why he didn't tell Jared right away, why he let things go as far as he did between them.

And then there's the sudden, biting fear that if he tells Jared he doesn't remember him, them, he's going to lose this. He doubts Jared is going to ditch him, or kick him out of the house—because, in the end, he's still Jensen, just with a few less memories, and Jared is his boyfriend, even if he has no recollection of him whatsoever. And thank god for that, because it would have been horrible to explain the whole thing if Jensen really was in a different alternative universe and had fooled Jared into sleeping with him when he wasn't really Jared's Jensen. But still, Jensen doubts Jared is going to be very pleased, and he's probably not going to still want to kiss and touch Jensen, share a bed with him.

Jensen isn't ready to give up on that, especially when he doesn't know how long this amnesia thing is going to last. Now that he’s had a taste of what it's like, being in a relationship with an amazing guy, he realizes just how much he'd craved something like this, how much happier it makes him.

And Jared. Jared is so heartbreakingly wonderful, the way he looks at Jensen like he means the world to him, the way he can't seem to stop touching Jensen, beams at Jensen when Jensen laughs at his jokes, and can't stop talking about anything and everything. Jensen can tell Jared really, truly loves him, cares about him, and Jensen can't imagine it not being mutual. It makes his heart clench a little, and he wishes he could remember Jared just so he could look at him the same way. Future him - or him without the memory loss, whatever—he thinks, is probably completely crazy over Jared. And Jared deserves that, and Jensen doesn't know how to tell him that he doesn't have it anymore, that his boyfriend is not really his boyfriend right now.

At the end of the day, Jensen's stomach is in painful twists. He sits curled up against Jared's side while they watch a movie that Jensen has never heard of—though, since they own the DVD and Jared seems to know every line, he's probably just forgotten he knows it. His head is resting on Jared's shoulder, and he's not paying any attention. Instead he's focusing on the way Jared's arm feels around him, the way Jared smells, and the jumble of thoughts running through his head.

Jared seems to notice, because he turns his head and tightens his arm around Jensen a little, whispers, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jensen lies, and tilts his head up to kiss Jared's jaw. It's a bit rough with a hint of stubble and he loves the way it feels against his lips.

"Jensen," Jared says. "Come on, talk to me."

"I—" Jensen starts, for the utmost time that day. "I just feel a bit weird. Would you mind if we went to bed early?"

Jared draws back a little and peers down at Jensen's face in the dim light of the room.

"Are you feeling sick again? Or is it your head?"

Jensen shakes his head.

"No. No," he says quickly. "I think maybe I just ate too much or something."

Jared looks at him a moment longer, but then he nods.

"Yeah, okay. If you're sure it's not something more serious," he says. "Let's just go to bed then. We've seen the movie a billion times already anyway."

"Yeah," Jensen agrees, like he knows.

Jared switches off the TV and goes to check on the dogs, and Jensen trails after him, smiling when Jared kneels down by the two doggy beds and whispers goodnight to the dogs, petting them softly.

He follows Jared up to the bedroom, and they get ready for bed silently. This time, Jensen gets completely naked before he gets under the covers, and he curls up against Jared in the darkness of the room, tilting his head up for a kiss that doesn't quite end up on Jared's lips.

"Good night, Jensen," Jared murmurs, and Jensen shifts, kisses him again.

"Night," he replies softly, and presses up closely against Jared. His strokes his hand slowly down Jared's side, then up again, mapping out the unfamiliar body, and he nudges his legs between Jared's, wanting to be as close as possible, feel Jared everywhere. Tomorrow, he's going to have to tell Jared whether he wants to or not—if for no other reason than the two scripts he saw lying around on the kitchen counter earlier. There's no way he's going to be able to go to work and keep pretending, not when he doesn't even know the name of the character he's playing.

Slowly, he feels Jared relax, breathing evening out as he falls asleep. Jensen listens, catalogs every little sound Jared makes in his sleep, and stays curled up against him, soaking up the feel of Jared's body, and ignores the way his eyes are burning with tears.

+

"You wanna come with us for a run?" Jared asks the next morning after breakfast, waving his hand at Sadie and Harley lying on the floor.

Outside, thick, wet flakes of snow are falling down, the sky a murky, gray cover of clouds. Despite that, Jensen is tempted to say yes, just to spend a little bit more time with Jared, but he shakes his head.

"Nah, I'd rather stay in," he says, trying to sound casual.

Jared laughs.  
"How come I knew you'd say that?" he asks teasingly. "Lazy bastard."

Jensen just shrugs and drinks the rest of his coffee, and Jared sighs and pushes himself up from the table.

"Okay, let's clean up so I can get going. The sooner I take these two out, the sooner I'm back and we can make hot chocolate and cuddle on the couch."

"That your plan for the day?" Jensen asks with a small smile, but it feels forced.

"You bet," Jared says, and leans down and kisses him.

"Hmm," Jensen hums into his mouth, and draws back. "You leave, I'll clean up."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely," Jensen says. He figures he's probably going to owe Jared for the rest of their lives, if Jensen is going to be in Jared's life for that long, and he might as well start making it up to him now.

Jared studies him, and for a moment he looks like he wants to say something to Jensen, but then he simply cups his face with one hand and kisses him again.

"Okay," he says. "Thanks."

"See you in a bit," Jensen replies, and he feels suddenly numb as he watches Jared walk out of the room, the dogs trailing after him when Jared calls out their names. Jensen stays rooted to the spot, listening to the noises from the hallway as Jared gets dressed, and then the sound of the door opening and clicking shut.

It's only then that he moves, and starts clearing the table. He puts the dirty dishes away first, then the stuff that goes in the fridge. He has no idea where the sugar Jared put on the table goes, or the half-empty box of cereal.

When he's done, he goes to sit back down at the kitchen table with a fresh mug of coffee and tries to think about what to say to Jared, how to start the conversation. How do you tell someone you've been keeping something huge a secret, that you've technically been deceiving them for days? And Jared loves him, loves 2009 Jensen so much.

By the time Jared and the dogs come home, Jensen still hasn't come up with a good plan and his stomach twists with nerves.

"We're back," Jared says, joining Jensen in the room, the dogs making a beeline for their bowls of water.

Jensen forces a smile onto his face, and nods.

"Yeah," he says, and then takes a deep breath. "Listen, can you sit down for a moment? I need to talk to you about something."

"Yeah, okay," Jared agrees and sits down across from him, but there's something about him that Jensen can't quite place. He's tense, like he's upset, and for a split moment, Jensen thinks Jared already figured out what's going on. But then he thinks Jared probably would have said something, wouldn't have played happy couple if he knew what was going on.

Jensen clears his throat.

"There's something...there's something I need to tell you. Should have told you already," he says. "I kinda—I kinda did something stupid, but. Jared, you gotta promise me not to freak out. Or, like, be mad."

He couldn't handle that right now. If Jared walks out on him because of this, Jensen is going to lose it.

Jared looks at him, expression somber.

"I'm not really sure I can make that promise, Jen," he says softly.

"Okay," Jensen says, because he didn't really expect Jared to agree. He knows it's not a promise he can make. "But. At least let me talk, okay? Let me explain and just listen."

"Okay," Jared says, then looks down. "Just—is there someone else or something? Is that it? 'Cause I'd rather you tell me quickly so we can get it over with."

"What?" Jensen asks, surprised. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you've been acting weird for a few days," Jared says with a shrug. "You—you're different. You're more guarded around me, and I know there's something you're not telling me, but then you're...you've been kinda clingy."

Jensen winces.

"Not in a bad way," Jared amends. "I just noticed that yesterday. You're usually a bit more, you know, you."

"What does that mean?" Jensen asks, not sure he wants to know.

"I don't know. You know what you're like, Jen. More grumpy, for one, and more sarcastic. Less affectionate?"

"I don't show you affection?" Jensen asks, surprised, and suddenly thinks maybe he doesn't want his memories back. Not if he's an asshole. Not if he doesn't even appreciate having a boyfriend like Jared.

"Jensen," Jared says, pleading. "That's not what I said. Of course you show me affection. You know you do. But yesterday you...you didn't let me out of your sight for a second. You were basically attached to me all day—and I'm not saying I mind that, at all, but I know something is wrong. And if you say you did something stupid then..."

"Then you think I'm cheating."

Jared shrugs.

"I don't know. No, not really," he says, sounding upset. "You wouldn't. I trust you. But I don't know what to think, to be honest."

Jensen rolls his lower lip into his mouth.

"I wouldn't," he agrees, then snorts. "Or, I think I wouldn't. I don't really know."

"What's that's supposed to mean?"

"Look, before I tell you, I just want you to know I'm sorry. I don't really know why I did it, but the whole thing was confusing and I was freaking out, and I didn't know how to deal with you. But I promise you I never meant to fool you, or hurt you," Jensen says, words tumbling out, and he stops, takes in a breath and doesn't look at Jared. "I think I have amnesia."

"You what?" Jared says.

Jensen looks at him nervously and shrugs.

"Amnesia."

"Amnesia," Jared repeats. "Jensen, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I—when I woke up on Friday, last thing I remember was falling asleep on the couch in my house in L.A.," Jensen says. "In 2002."

Jared looks stunned, throat working but no sounds coming out.

"Jen?" he finally says, and his voice sounds small, scared.

Jensen's throat constricts and he suddenly feels it all coming back, the panic and confusion and fear.

"I don't remember anything past that," he admits quietly. "It's all just gone. I don't think I've ever been as scared as I was on Friday."

Jared's lower lip is trembling, and he's wringing his hands together, and Jensen suddenly wishes he was anywhere but here, anywhere but across from Jared, looking so upset and hurt and confused.

"You don't remember anything," Jared repeats softly, and Jensen nods. "Me. You—you don't remember me."

"No," Jensen admits.

"But," Jared starts. "But you've...we've been. Yesterday morning."

"I'm sorry," Jensen whispers.

"Sorry?" Jared echoes, and his face is pale now. "Did I somehow...did I make you feel like you had to?"

"God, Jared, no," Jensen rushes out. "No. I wanted to. Believe me, I really wanted to—everything that happened this weekend."

Jared looks relieved, but still a little ashen, and he nods.

"Why then?" he asks, finally. "I mean, you're telling me you woke up without a recollection of the last years, of me, and instead of telling someone or getting help you...you just acted like nothing was wrong? You slept with me?"

"Basically, yeah," Jensen says and laughs anxiously. "I can't really explain it. I freaked out at first. Hell, I freaking puked on you, 'cause I didn't know what was going on and I thought you'd kidnapped me or some shit like that. But then...well, when you were gone, I spent the day looking around and—"

"And?" Jared prompts.

"We have a good life," Jensen says and smiles at Jared weakly. "The pictures and stuff—we look really happy in them. We are, right—happy, I mean?"

"We are," Jared says softly, and Jensen nods.

"Yeah. And then you came home and I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how to. You were basically a stranger to me, Jared, but you didn't know that and, well, you were so sweet and worried about me being sick. It felt nice," Jensen admits. "And apparently I'm a selfish asshole, because instead of telling you what was going on, I led you on. 'Cause...'cause I think I wanted to be that Jensen. The one who's so damn happy in those pictures, who has a boyfriend who takes care of him and loves him. I wanted that for myself."

"Jesus Christ, Jensen. You have that. You are that Jensen who has all of that."

Jensen shrugs.

"Didn't feel like it. I don't remember being that guy."

"You should have told me, anyway," Jared replies. "You need a doctor, Jensen, someone who can help you fix whatever's wrong."

"You said I did a stunt where I hit my head," Jensen says. "I think maybe that's why."

"Yeah," Jared says, and gets up, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, Jensen."

"I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I made you believe I was, you know, your Jensen, and that I let things go so far," Jensen says, voice a bit pleading, but the thought of Jared being mad at him makes his chest hurt. "Please, Jared. I wasn't thinking and I never wanted to hurt you. I was scared and confused and you were there, and you were so great with me, and I kinda latched onto that. It's fucked, I know. And I feel horrible—like I made you do something you probably wouldn't have if you'd known and I didn't meant to do that."

Jared exhales loudly, and looks at him, standing in the middle of the kitchen awkwardly.

"No," he finally says softly. "I mean, yeah, it's fucked up and you shouldn't have done that, but—but man, waking up without remembering the last few years must have been pretty tough. You probably weren't even thinking rationally. I get it."

"Yeah?"

Jared shrugs.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, the sex I maybe don't really get, but everything else? Yeah, I get that. You must have been freaked," he says, and then sits back down with a sigh. "So. You don't remember anything at all from the last few years?"

"Nothing," Jensen says.

Jared looks at him, eyes sad, and then he nods slowly.

"Okay," he says in a quiet voice, and just that one word sounds oddly broken. "I should drive you to the hospital."

"Yeah," Jensen replies, in a voice just as low. "Can you stay with me? Please? At this point, you probably can tell the doctors stuff they need to know better than I can and...and I'm kinda scared."

Jared reaches across the table and covers Jensen's hand with his.

"Hey, of course. I wouldn't leave," he says. "You're still Jensen, even if you don't remember the last few years."

+

Jensen hates hospitals, and this time, he hates being there more than ever before.

A doctor looks at him, and then they run tests, and ask a billion questions. The only good thing is that Jared stays with him, and he answers all the questions Jensen can't, and when they're alone in the examining room for a moment he wraps his arms around Jensen and holds him close. Jensen buries his face in Jared's neck and tries to breathe past the lump in his throat, suddenly ten times more scared than he'd felt since he woke up on Friday morning and freaked out.

Being here, having doctors look at him, makes it real and Jensen's not sure he can handle it. He's not sure he wants to know what's going on—he'd rather be home with Jared, still pretending nothing was wrong.

"It's gonna be okay," Jared murmurs into his ear and strokes his back. "Jensen, I promise, okay? I'm here, and we're gonna figure this out."

Jensen draws back and nods weakly, and then grabs Jared's hand because he needs the contact, needs Jared to stay close. When the doctor comes in, neither of them lets go.

+

It takes hours.

In the end, all the doctors can really find is the lump at the back of Jensen's head where, according to Jared, Jensen hit his head Thursday night during filming. The bump to his had left him with a mild concussion—Jared swears Jensen was doing fine on Thursday night, had a small headache but no signs of anything bad. There's nothing else physically wrong with Jensen. No tumor or signs of a stroke, and Jensen hadn't even thought of those options, but Jared must have because he nearly starts crying when the doctor informs them the MRI came back fine.

The doctor strongly implies there might be psychological reasons for Jensen's amnesia, but Jensen brushes that off. Mostly because Jared assures him Jensen didn't suffer any traumatic experience, because apparently they're basically joined at the hips and Jared insists he would know.

By the time they make it back home—because Jensen refused to stay and the doctors couldn't do much since he's doing alright—Jensen is exhausted and his head hurts again, though he's pretty sure it's because of being poked and prodded and not because of the slight hit to the head he suffered a few days ago.

"So," he starts as he sits down on the couch. He smiles when Sadie jumps up and strokes her fur gently—it hasn't taken him long to realize Sadie apparently loves him, and she's a sweet, smart dog and having her sitting next to him makes Jensen feel better instantly.

"So," Jared echoes.

"We're just gonna have to be patient," Jensen says dryly, repeating what the doctor told them, and snorts. "That's bullshit."

"Jensen."

"I mean, I can't just sit around and wait for my memories to come back," Jensen continues.

Jared sighs and sits down on the arm of the couch, looking at Jensen with sad eyes.

"There's nothing you can really do. You just—gotta hope for the best, I guess."

"But what if—," Jensen starts and swallows. "What if my memories don't come back?"

"Jen," Jared says softly. "Don't say that."

"It's a possibility, right? I mean, there's not even a real reason why I don't remember anything. I bumped my head, Jared—it happens all the time, and nobody ever loses their memories," Jensen says, and rests his head on the back of the couch, looking up at Jared. "What do I do if I can't remember the last few years?"

"You go on. You make new memories. I know it sucks, Jensen, believe me, but it's a few years you forgot, not your whole life," Jared says. "You still remember who you are, that's what matters. Things will be okay."

"What about the job?" Jensen asks. "I don't remember shit about that."

"I don't know. We're...we're gonna call everyone, set up a meeting and tell them what's going on. We can work things out—I mean, you're still a great actor, maybe we can work around it. And if not...well, then there'll be other projects," Jared says resolutely.

"What about us?" Jensen asks quietly. "I don't remember us either."

Jared frowns and looks down, shrugging.

"We'll figure it out, too. Somehow."

"Together?"

Jared lifts his head and gives him a small smile.

"Together," he promises, and Jensen feels a little bit better.

+

They go to bed early, both of them exhausted from the day's events. The clothes stay on that night—sweatpants and t-shirts—but Jared spoons him and holds him against his chest, and Jensen is so relieved he nearly cries.

Jared had a long conversation with their showrunner, then a conference call with a bunch of other people too. Jensen listened in on it for a while, but he didn't recognize a single name or voice, and most of the stuff was either confusing because he couldn't keep up, or embarrassing because these people were talking about him, only that version of him was someone Jensen was entirely unfamiliar with.

In the end, filming has been laid on ice for a week and then they'll re-group.

The next day, Jensen gets breakfast in bed. There's coffee and eggs and bacon, but there's also a tall glass of orange juice for both of them and a sizable bowl of fruit and yoghurt. Apparently this Jensen takes way better care of himself than 2002 Jensen—or maybe Jared does. He definitely works out more too. It hasn't escaped Jensen's notice over the last few days that he's way buffer now than he was before, even if he doesn't have a six pack like Jared does (and what a six pack it is).

"So," Jared starts once most of the food is gone. He's been quiet this morning, quieter than the Jared Jensen has gotten used to over the last few days. "I've been thinking and I came up with a few ideas."

"Like what?"

"Things that could jog your memories," Jared says. "Things I can show you or tell you about and maybe something will trigger something. I don't know if that works, but...well, that's usually how it works on TV, right?"

Jensen's lips twitch up into a smile at that.

"Sounds good," he agrees.

"And I think you should call your family," Jared adds. He fiddles with the bed sheets, pulling at a loose string. "I should have asked you this before, but if you'd rather be with them, we can book you a flight."

"Jared," Jensen starts and shakes his head. "No. No."

"It might be better for you if you were around people you actually remember," Jared argues.

"Do you want me to leave?" Jensen asks bitterly. Jared's shoulders slump and he hangs his head.

"Of course not," he says quietly. "Jesus Christ, Jensen, the last thing I want is to be away from you. But I'm trying to do the right thing here, and if being in Texas would be better..."

"Well, it wouldn't," Jensen interjects. "Look, I might not remember you. But man, we work together and live together and my phone is full of pictures and texts from you and there's all of this." He pauses and waves his hand around the room. "This whole place, this whole life I have—well, I don't need to remember you to realize you're clearly the center of my world."

Jared runs a hand over his face and snorts, before the sound turns into a low, sad laugh.

"What?" Jensen asks.

"Nothing. Just...life imitating art," Jared says, shaking his head.

"I don't get it."

"The guys we play on the show? Well, basically, they're brothers and all they've got is each other. They're the most co-dependent guys in the world," Jared explains and shrugs. "And we kind of put them to shame. 's just weird, I guess."

"We're really close," Jensen says, and doesn't even have to question it because he knows it's true.

"Yeah," Jared says, smiling a little now. Jensen looks away from him, his chest aching, and stares at the remains of their breakfast, laid out on a tray.

"Tell me about us," he says.

"Like what?"

Jensen shrugs.

"Anything you want."

Jared sighs. He picks up the tray, puts it onto the floor, and then scoots back so he's leaning against the headboard. Jensen shifts until he's next to him, barely an inch of space between them.

"We met at the audition for the show," Jared starts and looks at him, smiling. "We were the only ones there, it was so cool."

"Yeah?"

Jared nods.

"Yeah. None of that 'a room full of guys that are your competition' crap. Just you and me," he says. "Anyway, I was there first and you walked into the room."

"Love at first sight?" Jensen asks, his voice teasing. Jared laughs.

"Not quite, but kinda. We just clicked. We went in, did a scene for a room full of people from the network and producers and everyone. And at the end of it they got up and clapped. Clapped. Told us we had ourselves a show right there," Jared recounts. "It was the best moment ever. And you were basically a stranger, but it felt so right. It's never been like that working with anyone else. And then we went out and had a few drinks together and it's weird, but we were friends from that day on. We didn't have to work for it, it was just there."

"And the rest, they say, is history?" Jensen guesses. Jared wrinkles his nose.

"Yeah, kinda. I mean, things haven't always been easy, we've had our ups and downs, but we stuck together," he says. "I was a twenty-two year old kid when we started, I still had so much to learn. But you kinda took me under your wing, took care of me, taught me what you could. You were really sweet to me, Jen."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Jared says, poking him. "You were always that way with me, Jensen, from day one you were my friend and you were there for me. And I like to think I did the same for you, taught you some things too."

"Taught me things?" Jensen asks. "Like what?"

"Like, how to be a little less reserved. How to let go and have fun," Jared says. He picks up Jensen's hand, threading their fingers together. "Not sure if that's a good thing. We maybe sometimes goof around a little too much, but it keeps things fun on set."

"Sounds like a good thing to me," Jensen says softly. He squeezes Jared's fingers. "Better than the sets where everyone just bitches at each other."

Jared laughs softly.

"Yeah, true," he agrees. He looks up and grins. "We had exactly one fight on set. Only real, bad fight you and I ever had, period."

"Yeah?"

Jared nods.

"It was totally stupid," he admits. "I wasn't used to the workload and the long hours and being away from my friends and family. It kinda got to me sometimes and we were doing this scene and I wasn't giving it my all. You, of course, could tell. You always can. Usually, you just tell me to get my head in the game and step up, but you were in a bad mood that day. I don't know, just tired and grumpy, and we were both kinda frustrated and we just snapped. You said some things to me, about holding up production and stuff, and I blew up, told you I was trying and you being an ass didn't help. You called me immature and I called you names in return and then I kinda stormed off."

Jared laughs as he stops speaking, shaking his head to himself. Jensen leans in and carefully, experimentally, presses a kiss to Jared's clothed shoulder.

"I'm sorry I was a douche," he says. Jared shrugs, grins.

"That's the first thing you said when you came to apologize back then, too," he says, and Jensen smiles. "It was kinda embarrassing, because by that point I'd been crying my eyes out for, like, fifteen minutes, 'cause that's the kinda guy I am."

"I made you cry?" Jensen asks, feeling guilt and regret settle in his stomach. Jared rolls his eyes.

"Dude, it was as much my fault as yours. We were both in a bad mood and took it out on each other."

"Dude," Jensen mimics, finding the address a lot less charming than Jared's usual terms of endearment. Jared seems to get it, rolling his eyes at him. "I still made you cry. I suck."

"You hugged me and apologized and then I apologized, and all was good. I'm a crier, Jensen, it's far from the only time I cried on set and make-up had to fix my red, puffy eyes and make me pretty again," Jared mocks, then grins. "But you do suck. Really well, too. Aaaall the time."

Jensen laughs and swats Jared's stomach.

"Shut up. If I remember correctly you were the one doing all the sucking on Saturday."

"I was feeling generous. And you can't actually argue with me on this, 'cause you don't remember," Jared teases. "You love my dick. You've composed odes to my dick."

"It was probably really complaints about how much my jaw ached, you freak," Jensen shoots back, and Jared throws his head bad and cackles. It's a beautiful sight; Jared's one of those people whose happiness is infectious. It must have been easy to fall in love with him, Jensen thinks, and he wonders how long it took him. Wonders if the first meeting was enough for him to be done in for, wouldn't be surprised because it didn't take him long this time around to be completely entranced by the guy. Jared makes him feel good, lighter, happier than anyone before.

+

They get up eventually, shower—separately, and that's the sensible thing to do but Jensen still feels a little miffed that he didn't get to see Jared naked again, didn't get to touch him and find out if he looks as hot all naked and soapy as Jensen pictures him—and get dressed.

And then Jensen calls his parents.

It's an uncomfortable conversation. His mother picks up and sounds so happy to hear from him, and Jensen hates that he has to break the news to her. What follows isn't pretty. His mother, like he knew she would, instantly freaks out and then his father joins the conversation and isn't much calmer. His mother cries, and then Jensen almost cries too, and his father asks how and why and that there must be specialists that can help and they'll book a flight away. It takes some time for Jensen to talk them out of that idea.

Jared is watching the whole thing unfold with a grim expression on his face, and eventually, as if he can sense that Jensen is reaching the end of his rope, he steps in.

"Hey, mom," he says softly into the phone, lips curled into a small smile. "Hey Papa A."

Jensen curls up on his end of the couch and listens to Jared's side of the conversation, his quiet, "Yes, ma'am" and "I'm taking care of him" and "He's fine, I promise. The doctors were sure it's only temporary and there's nothing wrong with him." and then, with a grin, "Well, you know what a drama queen your son is. Can't just bump his head and be fine like the rest of us."

Jensen makes a disgruntled noise and kicks Jared, but Jared simply catches his foot around the ankle without even looking. Jensen doesn't try to pull away, not when Jared's thumb starts rubbing the soft skin there.

"I won't let him out of my sight, I promise," Jared says finally, serious. "And we'll call you every day and let you know if there are any news. And if Jensen decides he wants to come see you I'll book us a flight out to Dallas right away."

There are few more promises and reassurances and then Jared hangs up.

"I'm only, like, eighty percent sure they won't book a flight and show up on our doorstep later," Jared says, squeezing Jensen's foot, "but I think they're okay."

Jensen exhales slowly.

"You're close to them."

"Of course I am," Jared says and shrugs. "They're family."

"Am I close to yours too?" Jensen asks.

Jared snorts.

"I'm not sure my momma remembers you're not actually her son, too," he says.

"That'd be kinda gross because we're in a relationship," Jensen huffs. Jared's expression turns positively gleeful.

"Oh Jensen, you have no idea how many people would disagree with you on that," he says. "Our fandom would probably be delighted."

"Our what?"

Jared squeezes Jensen's ankle.

"Our fans. I'll explain that one another time," he says. "You don't want to know."

"We have fans, huh?" Jensen asks. "I mean, the show. It's different from all the other jobs I had. It's actually our show."

"It is. And we have fans. I mean, our ratings aren't insane, 'cause we're a genre show on the CW, man, but we have fans. A whole lot of them," Jared says, shrugging.

"Is the show any good?"

"Yeah, I think so," Jared says, then pauses. "We can watch some. Maybe that'll actually help."

Jensen shrugs.

"Sure, okay."

Jared nods and gets off the couch. He gets out three DVD sets, making a few comments about different episodes that go way over Jensen's head, and then picks the pilot.

They get comfortable on the couch and Jared starts the DVD. Jensen actually starts laughing when Jared—Sam—appears on screen.

"Oh my god," he gasps. "You were a baby! How old were you again, 12?"

"Sure, yeah," Jared says and then adds conversationally, "You know, first time we hooked up was after we filmed the finale of the first season. Still think I look like I'm 12?"

"Shut up," Jensen grumbles. He keeps his eyes trained on the screen and frowns. "End of the first season, huh? So...been a couple of years."

"Almost three," Jared says. "Now, shh, you're missing all the brilliant acting."

Jensen laughs but shuts up.

+

They watch the first three episodes, taking a quick break after the first to have lunch, before Jared decides it's enough and they actually need to get up and do something. Jensen isn't entirely sold on the idea, but he agrees.

It's not a bad show, and he feels pleased. Proud. It's better than the other stuff he's done so far, at least as far as he can remember. He likes Dean, likes the writing, and he and Jared look good together on screen. They have chemistry and there's something there, between them, that makes Jensen wonder if it was more them than acting. Jared and Jensen and not Sam and Dean. It's weird to think that, a few months after filming these episodes, he started dating Jared. The guy on screen looks so different, young and sweet and beautiful, and Jensen is as attracted to him as he is to the Jared from now. The Jensen from four years ago though? That's a little embarrassing to watch. He's kind of gotten used to the way he looks now, having spent more than a little time studying his reflection in the mirror, and he looked so much younger, so much more fragile a few years ago. Less manly, and he can't help but not like that.

He also hates that it does nothing. It's him and a younger version of Jared on the screen, and yet it feels like he's watching strangers. He can feel Jared glancing at him every now and then, waiting to see if there's any reaction, and there's nothing. As far as Jensen is concerned, he's never heard of Sam and Dean Winchester before.

Afterward, they play with the dogs in the backyard for a while, and Jensen brings their relationship up while they're tossing balls for them.

"So, three years," he says. He can't help but be curious about them, about how they are together and how they got there.

"Yeah."

"I think that's the longest relationship I've ever had."

"It is," Jared says, nodding. Jensen bites down onto his bottom lip, hums.

"Hmm, so," he starts, and stops. Jared rolls his eyes, but he's grinning.

"Just spit it out."

"We're kinda serious."

Jared laughs.

"Babe," he says. "We're more than 'kinda serious'. You don't sleep with your co-star for three years, especially if you're both guys and this could screw up a lot of things for you professionally, if you're not serious about each other."

"Yeah," Jensen agrees and swings his arm back before letting the tennis ball Sadie brought him sail through the air. "But I mean, are we really serious? The 'this is it for us' kind of serious."

"Yes," Jared says simply.

"And we've talked about this?"

"We have. Made some plans, too, for our future and about our lives after the show. Getting a house in Texas, going to L.A. for jobs and auditions and stuff," Jared pauses. "We've talked about marriage, too."

"Jesus Christ," Jensen replies.

"What?" Jared asks in a quiet voice.

"Nothing. It's just...last I remember I was leading a typical bachelor life, fucking around," Jensen explains. "My life is so different now. Marriage is kinda huge."

"You're the one who brought it up first. Said you wanted to marry me when the show is over," Jared says, and he sounds hurt now, eyes downcast. Harley comes rushing up to him, a ball in his mouth, wagging his tale. Jared pats him, not looking up, and takes the ball.

"Jared," Jensen coaxes gently. "I wasn't implying it's a bad thing. It's different, kinda big, but not bad. I mean, I know I don't remember much so all of this is kinda hard to process, but your Jensen is one lucky bastard if you ask me."

"Don't say that," Jared mumbles.

"Don't say what?"

"My Jensen. Like he's a different guy. You are my Jensen."

Jensen sighs and closes the small distance between them.

"I'm sorry," he says, sliding his arm around Jared's waist. "I'm fucking this up."

Jared slumps, looking at him.

"It's just complicated. For both of us."

"For what it's worth, I really want to be your Jensen," Jensen admits, and Jared gives him a sad smile. He leans in and kisses him gently, chastely.

+

The next few days drag by slowly and nothing happens. Jensen hates it and he can tell Jared is getting more and more frustrated, too. He's trying not to show it, but Jensen can tell anyway. It doesn't help that there's nothing much for them to do other than sit around and wait, or so it feels.

Watching the show some more doesn't really help, even if Jensen finds himself enjoying it. Jared tries to come up with things for them to do, but it turns out other than working and hanging out together they don't actually do much. The hours they work don't leave much time for other things.

They go shopping at their usual grocery store and Jensen gets lost in the aisle trying to find the pasta while Jared picks out some vegetables. They walk around the neighborhood with the dogs, listen to music that Jared swears Jensen loves, and Jared tells him more about them and their lives. But nothing helps, nothing triggers any memories.

There's another hospital visit, just a check-up. It's shorter than the first, but no more enlightening. Jensen's blood tests came back fine, so did any other results they were still waiting for.

"You're in perfect health, Mr. Ackles," the doctor says and Jensen hates that that feels like bad news. Perfect health means there's nothing to cure, nothing to fix. Next to him, Jared is slumped in a chair.

Back outside, Jared pulls him into a hug.

"You're fine. Nothing wrong with you," he murmurs, and while Jensen thinks Jared is relieved, he sounds a little upset too.

"Yeah," Jensen agrees and nods against Jared's shoulder. It feels like, no matter what they do, it's all just a bunch of dead ends.

On Thursday, Jared drives them to set. With production on hold there isn't much going on, just a few people milling around. They say hi, but Jared seems to realize that Jensen isn't in the mood to actually talk to anyone because he has no clue as to who they are.

Jared shows him their trailers—which are more impressive than any trailer Jensen has had before—and Jensen pokes around his belongings a little. Afterward, they walk around a little, check out the soundstage and the Impala. As the day progresses, Jensen realizes Jared's mood drops a little. It's only then that he realizes how hopeful he started the day; he guesses it makes sense. This is where they spend most of their time, so if anything should trigger Jensen, it's probably the set. But there's nothing there that he remembers, nothing that makes even a faint memory niggle at his brain.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly as they get back into their car to head home. Jared sighs and takes Jensen's hand in his, bringing it up for a kiss.

"Don't be," he says. "I expected too much."

"Still feels like I'm letting you down," Jensen admits. Jared shakes his head, looking at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Never, Jensen. You could never let me down," he says. "I just thought...it's set. You love coming here and we're here so much. I really thought seeing it might help."

"Maybe the doctors were right the first time," Jensen mumbles. "Maybe there really is something else going on. A trauma or whatever."

"Jensen. No," Jared says softly. He reaches over and runs his fingers through Jensen's hair, the touch gentle and soothing. "If there was, we'd deal with it. It wouldn't mean your memory can't come back. But I really think I'd know if something was going on."

Jensen sighs.

"I'm getting really tired of this. And I know you are too."

Jared lets his hand slide down to Jensen's neck and tugs him, until Jensen leans across the gear shift. Their lips meet in a slow, sweet kiss. Then Jared rests his forehead against Jensen's.

"You're right," he admits. "And it stops now. This whole trying to trigger your memory stuff isn't helping, and we're both just putting ourselves down with it."

"So we give up?" Jensen asks, a lump forming in his throat.

"No, we're just going to stop trying to force this. It's not doing us any good," Jared says. "It was a stupid idea anyway. Whatever's happening in that pretty head of yours, your memories will come back when you're ready for it."

He taps his fingers against Jensen's temple, and Jensen smiles weakly.

"They might not."

Jared kisses him again instead of replying, and Jensen knows Jared is thinking it too. He might never remember the last few years of his life. He might never remember that first audition, might never remember Dean Winchester, might never remember his and Jared's first kiss and the first time they had sex and the first time they said 'I love you'.

+

Things get a little easier after that, though Jensen wouldn't call them better. They stop trying so hard, and that's good, but it doesn't fix things. Jensen is starting to seriously worry that this condition of his is a long-term thing and it keeps him up at night and preoccupied during the day.

No matter what Jared says about things being okay, about how they'll handle whatever will happen, Jensen can't help but worry about it. What if in a few weeks, or maybe a few months from now they'll have to admit that Jensen's memories are most likely gone permanently? That he's not the Jensen he was anymore—and yet he's not the Jensen from 2002 either. It's like both of those guys are gone and he's this weird in-between now.

On Sunday, there's another conference call with the writers, producers, and network people. They decide to hold production off for one more week and then that's it. Either Jensen is Jensen again, as someone from the network so nicely phrases it, or they'll have to figure out a way to work around it.

Jensen decides to watch more recent episodes, study himself playing Dean Winchester, to prepare. He's an actor, and maybe he doesn't have the experience and knowledge his 2009 version has, but pretending is his job.

He feels drained after the phone call and he's almost glad when Jared says he'll have to go walk the dogs. He declines when Jared asks him if he wants to come along.

He goes to lie down, grabs a book to distract himself with but doesn't make it further than halfway down the first page. Then he picks up his phone, struggles with the stupid settings that he still doesn't get, and calls Chris.

"Jensen, man!" Chris answers. "What's up? I haven't heard from you in forever."

Jensen runs a hand down his face.

"I haven't heard from you in about seven years," he replies dryly and can almost feel Chris's confusion through the phone.

"You lost me."

"Makes two of us," Jensen says, and he knows he's being obnoxious, but his head is a mess of thoughts and he hadn't thought about what to say to Chris when he called.

"Dude, are you drunk?" Chris asks. "Did something happen? Where's that boy of yours, let me talk to him."

"Jared's walking the dogs," Jensen says. "And yeah, you could say something happened. I had a bit of an accident."

"Shit, son. You all right?" Chris asks.

"Not really," Jensen admits. "I'm not hurt or anything, so don't worry about that. Just bumped my head. But I have freaking amnesia."

He says the last part with a bitter laugh.

"Amnesia," Chris echoes. "Like, you don't remember the accident?"

"I don't remember the past seven or so years."

There's a long moment of silence, and then Chris says, "Come again?" in that 'I'm calling bullshit' voice he's used on Jensen one too many times.

"Swear," Jensen says.

"Seven years?"

"Yeah."

"Shit, Jensen. That's..." Chris starts and trails off.

"A lot," Jensen finishes.

"Yeah, you could say that," Chris agrees. "Holy fuck. Give me some details, man. When did it happen? What did the doctors say? How you're holding up?"

"A little over a week ago. Nothing much other than to wait it out. And I wouldn't be able to answer that last question even if I tried," Jensen says. "It's so weird, man."

"Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"'Cause everything's been kinda crazy. And seven years, Chris—I don't even know who my friends are these days and what's been going on," Jensen tries to explain. "But I saw a text from you on my phone from not too long ago, so I figured we kept in touch. And I just...needed to talk to someone, I guess."

"What about Jared?" Chris asks quietly. Jensen stares up at the ceiling and sighs.

"I don't remember him," he mumbles and huffs. "Isn't that fucked up? I live and work and sleep with the guy, but I don't remember him. And he's so...great. I'm a lucky son of a bitch, man, and I can't help but feel guilty because I forgot him. Like talking to him is just going to make things worse because I know I'm hurting him."

"It's not like you did it on purpose," Chris says gently. "I'm sure he'd never want you to feel guilty."

"Well, he isn't happy. He says I'm still his Jensen, but I can tell he misses me." Jensen pauses, eyes following a small crack in the white paint above his head. "What if this fucks everything up, man? My job, my relationship. There are friends I have now that I don't remember, and I've probably lost touch with the ones I do. Shit, man, last I remember I was on Dawson's Creek."

That one startles a laugh out of Chris.

"Dude, yeah, that's fucked up," he admits. "But hey, I'll admit that I haven't watched every episode of your show but as far as I know it's all about weird stuff. If Dean Winchester suddenly seems a little wacky it'd fit right in. So don't worry about that. And you and Jared, you'll figure things out."

"What if we can't? I'm not his boyfriend right now, no matter what he says. And I know shit about being in a serious relationship like this."

"It can't actually be that hard, 'cause you got used to it pretty quickly first time around. Man, I remember when you told me—you were over the moon, Jensen," Chris says. "And you're still you, just with a few years worth of memories missing. You're not a completely different guy, man. You're probably head over heels for him already."

"Why would you say that?" Jensen asks suspiciously, but he can't actually deny that. Jared affects him, and Jensen craves him, needs him in a way that should be too much, too soon.

"'Cause you were crushing on him from day one. You didn't notice for a while, but believe me, you were. It was all 'Jared this' and 'Jared that'. He became one of your closest friends in no time. And I hate to break it to you, Ackles, but you're not exactly one of the most social, open people in the world."

"Look who's talking," Jensen shoots back.

"I might have changed."

"Did you?"

Chris laughs.

"Fuck no," he says. "Point is, you and Jared, you didn't need a lot of time the first time around. I don't see how it would be any different now. I bet you can't even tell me you don't have feelings for him yet."

"No. I can't," Jensen admits after a short moment.

+

"I ordered pizza for dinner," Jared says when Jensen wanders into the kitchen a couple of hours later. He talked to Chris for a while, then called his parents, and then just stayed in their bedroom and thought about things even when he heard Jared and the dogs come back.

"Hope that's okay," Jared adds. "I got your favorite."

"Yeah, sounds good," Jensen says. He leans against the kitchen counter, watching Jared clear away some dishes. "What's my favorite?"

"What?"

"My favorite pizza."

Jared frowns.

"Pepperoni and cheese with extra mushrooms," he says.

Jensen cocks his head to the side and smiles.

"Guess that hasn't changed."

"It's what you usually order, for as long as I've known you," Jared says, shrugging.

Jensen nods, and thinks maybe Chris is right. Maybe Jared's Jensen isn't a completely different person.

+

"I'm not sure I can pull this off," Jensen admits a week later, looking down at the open script on his lap.

"Of course you can," Jared says. "You did it from day one, so nothing's stopping you now."

Jensen snorts and raises the script.

"This isn't exactly the guy from the pilot," he says. "He's so fucked up. There are so many layers and I just...I'm not sure how to do that."

"Jensen," Jared says. "You'll do fine. You're a great actor, just stop overthinking this. Stop thinking about how Jensen before the accident would have done it and do it the way you think is right."

Jensen chews on the corner of his lower lip.

"How'd you know I was thinking about that?" he asks quietly.

"Because I know you," Jared simply says. "Now, come on, let's take it from the top. Don't think, just do it."

Jensen thumbs a few pages back, skims the first lines and takes a deep breath before he nods.

+

Filming isn't a disaster, but it's not comfortable either. Jensen thinks he's doing alright, or hopes he is, and everyone on set is being really encouraging. Too encouraging. He feels like a little kid, everyone watching his every move and then falling over themselves to congratulate him whenever they finish a scene.

Jared is watching the whole thing silently, only stepping in and quietly asking people to back off when it gets too much. Jensen is pretty sure he pulls some people aside when Jensen isn't looking and tells them to leave him alone. Despite Jared's help, it's still kind of overwhelming. Jensen feels comfortable with the script, but not really with the character. He isn't Dean, doesn't really get him the way he thinks he must have before.

"You're doing fine," Jared reassures him.

"Fine isn't good."

Jared's lips curl up into a smile.

"You're doing good," he amends. "Stop thinking, remember? Just go with the flow."

He tells him the same thing countless more times, practices scenes with Jensen and patiently answers questions. Half of the time he has to google things himself or asks other people on set, because there's a lot of stuff he doesn't remember either.

"See, you probably know more than me already," he teases. Jensen rolls his eyes.

"But you know Sam," he points out. "I'm just pretending to know Dean."

"That's okay. Dean puts up a facade anyway," Jared replies, and Jensen swats him.

"Shut up, Dean is awesome."

"He likes to think so," Jared mocks. "See, you're already thinking like him. Before you'll know it you'll be talking in a lower voice all day and strut around."

"Dean doesn't strut."

"Dean's a cocky asshole."

"Hey!" Jensen cries out indignantly. Jared laughs and pats Jensen's head.

"Don't worry, I still love him. And Sam loves him too."

What about me, Jensen wants to ask. Do you love me too? He's glad when they're called onto set.

+

"Did you know that the longer I don't remember stuff, the more likely it is my memory won't return? I read that somewhere online," Jensen asks on Friday night. It's late, close to eleven p.m. already but they just came home and are having dinner in the living-room now.

Jared is quiet for a moment, poking around in a take-out container with his chopsticks.

"Maybe we should stay away from google. 's mostly bullshit anyway." he finally says, and Jensen knows that means he read it, too.

He nods.

Jared puts the food down onto the coffee table.

"You did well on set this week. If your memories don't come back, we'll still keep going."

"It's not the show I'm worried about," Jensen admits.

Jared looks at him, quiet, then exhales slowly.

"Jensen," he murmurs. He lifts his hand, hesitates and Jensen waits, and then Jared cups his face, leans in and kisses him. They've kissed several times over the last few weeks, soft and sweet and reassuring.

This one isn't meant to be simply reassuring. Jared tilts his head, coaxes his lips apart and slides their tongues together dirtily. It's the kind of kiss that's slow but leaves you breathless, heart pounding and head swimming.

"Fuck," Jared mutters, and tugs at Jensen, pulls him in. Jensen goes with it, crawls onto Jared's lap and curls his arms around Jared's neck. He's making noises, small and desperate, and Jared answers with moans, his hands roaming over Jensen's back, down to his ass.

"Jared," Jensen groans, pulling his head back as he grinds down against Jared. He's hard in his jeans, feels a damp spot already forming. "I want—god, I want. Please."

Jared slides his hand under Jensen's shirt, his touch warm, and bites at Jensen's jaw. "Let's take this to the bedroom," he suggests, voice rough.

"Yes," Jensen agrees, hisses. Yes, he thinks, yes, yes, oh please, yes.

+

They undress on their way to the bed, tearing at clothes eagerly, and tumble down onto the mattress together. Jared kneels between Jensen's legs, looks down at him with hungry, dark eyes.

"What do you want?" he asks, and ducks his head down to catch Jensen's mouth in a kiss.

Jensen reaches up, runs his hands down Jared's sides. His skin is smooth, warm. "How do we usually, you know?" he asks, and then thinks what the hell, he's a grown up man and he hasn't been shy in the bedroom for a long time. "Do you usually top?"

"No. Sometimes. Whatever we feel like," Jared says. He nuzzles Jensen's neck. "Whatever you want."

"Want to fuck you," Jensen replies, without having to think about it. As amazing as the sex was last time, he wants to be inside Jared, wants to fuck him until he falls apart under him.

Jared nods, brings his mouth back up to Jensen's for a slow, deep kiss. He settles down on top of Jensen, moaning when their naked cocks rub together, and tangles their legs. Jensen grabs the back of Jared's left thigh, settles his other hand of the small of his back, and rolls them around. Jared makes a pleased sound, lets his legs fall open. No fight for dominance, no hesitation.

Jensen pushes a strand of unruly hair out of Jared's face, tugs it behind his hear. "Anything you don't like?" he asks.

"Yeah, when you ask stupid questions instead of fucking me."

"Should have known you'd be bratty about this," Jensen murmurs and kisses the corner of Jared's mouth, the soft dent of a dimple next to it.

"You like me bratty," Jared says.

Jensen grins against his skin.

"I bet you're lying."

"Maybe," Jared laughs. Jensen slides lower, kisses his jaw, his neck. His hands map out Jared's body, stroke down his sides, slide across his stomach. He avoids Jared's cock, takes his time to get to know the body under his instead.

Jared makes small, impatient noises, but then arches off the bed when Jensen drags his tongue over his nipple. Score, he thinks, and circles it a few times with his tongue. He feels it get hard, the skin around it pebbling, and sucks on it teasingly.

"Christ, Jensen," Jared groans. Jensen brings his hand up to the other nipple, rubs over it, then twists it between his fingers. He grins at the broken moan that he draws from Jared. Jared's cock is hard and wet, trapped against Jensen's chest.

Jensen lifts up, scoots down and just looks at Jared's dick for a moment. It's big, the tip dark and wet. He blows hot air over it, watches the way Jared shudders, and then leans down and mouths over it.

"Oh god," Jared groans, his fingers tangling in Jensen's short hair. Jensen wraps his hand around the base and sucks the head into his mouth, takes the first few inches in. With his other hand, he cups Jared's balls, rolling them in his hand, before he slides a finger further back. He rubs over Jared's hole, feels Jared twitch and rock down onto his touch.

"Lube," Jared gasps. "Now, babe, please."

Jensen lets his cock slip from his mouth, kisses it softly, and then sits back. He pulls open the drawer of the nightstand where he knows the lube is. He grabs the tube and flips it open, squeezing some onto his fingers. Jared shifts, spreads his legs further, his knees bent and feet on the mattress.

Jensen leans down and kisses him as he brings his fingers back to Jared's hole and slips the first one in. He takes it slow, tries to pay attention to Jared's body language to make sure he's comfortable. Judging by the way he's arching into Jensen's touch, making the smallest sweetest noises, he doesn't have to worry.

Jared is tight, but he lets Jensen's finger in easy, doesn't tense when he adds a second and then a third easier. Jensen opens him up carefully. He fucks his fingers in and out, scissors and curls them, until Jared is loose and relaxed.

He pulls his fingers out, kisses the inside of Jared's knee. 

"Wanna turn around for me?" he murmurs. Jared gives him a smile, and flips over onto his stomach easily, lifting himself up onto his knees so his ass is in the air.

"No condom, right?" Jensen asks, just to be sure. Jared turns his head back, damp hair sticking to his forehead, and grins.

"Haven't used them in a long time, babe," he says, and Jensen nods. He picks the lube back up, slicks up his cock and brings two wet fingers back to Jared's hole, spreading some more lube around. He wipes his hand on the bedspread, then holds his cock steady around the base and positions himself.

Jared is tight, and Jensen works his way in slowly, rocking in deeper and deeper until he bottoms out. Jared is clinging to him, hot and perfect.

"Okay?" Jensen murmurs, hands gripping Jared's hips now.

Jared hums.

"'m good. Fuck me, Jensen, please."

Jensen nods, even though Jared can't see it, and pulls back out a little. He thrusts back in slowly, watches the way Jared shudders, a small bead of sweat rolling down the curve of his spine. Jensen repeats the movement, a little deeper, a little harder. Jared moans.

It's amazing, the way he feels. Jensen has always used condoms, and Jared feels hotter, better around him than he remembers any other guy has before.

"God," he murmurs, and rolls his hips again. Out and in, out and in. He feels Jared relax more, starting to move back to meet Jensen's thrusts, their bodies rocking together. Jensen tries to take it all in, the long curve of Jared's body, the way the muscles in his back flex, the way it looks as he slides in and out of Jared's body, his hole stretched oh-so-prettily around the girth of Jensen's cock.

It's perfect.

"Fuck, baby," Jensen groans, shifting to change the angle a little, so he can hit Jared's prostate just right.

Jared arches his back, gasps.

"Right fucking there, again," he begs, and Jensen complies.

Jared starts making small moans and whimpers, and his muscles contract around Jensen, gripping him so tightly Jensen loses his rhythm. Jared gasps out a small laugh, and does it again, and Jensen grips him a little tighter, fucks into him a little harder. He's breathless and burning up from the inside, his balls tight.

Jensen leans forward carefully, pressing up against Jared's back and kisses his shoulder, tastes the salty skin. The change in position doesn't allow him to move much, but he ruts down into Jared relentlessly.

"So close, Jared," he murmurs. "Come on, come for me."

He reaches around, grabs Jared's dick and gives it a few, hard strokes. Jared goes rigid, lets out a cry, and his come splashes over Jensen's fingers.

"God, so good," Jensen pants. "So good, baby."

He rolls his hips, presses deep into Jared's heat, and lets go. White, hot pleasure shoots down his spine, hot come filling Jared.

Shuddering, muscles quivering, they collapse onto the bed. Jensen feels like he loses a few minutes, mind foggy and body trembling with aftershocks. He turns his head, nuzzles Jared's neck, the hair sticking wetly to his skin.

He shifts them onto their sides, carefully pulls back and out of Jared, who hisses softly when Jensen slips out of him.

"You okay?" Jensen asks. He pulls Jared against him, kisses the curve of his shoulder.

"Hate that part," Jared mumbles, and Jensen hums in agreement. His fingers absently stroke Jared's stomach, smearing come over the skin in the process.

"We should probably shower."

Jared huffs out a laugh.

"Not sure I can move," he says, sounding tired and happy.

Jensen doesn't protest, because he doesn't mind. They're sweaty and messy, but Jared is curled up perfectly in his arm, skin warm and Jensen feels lazy, blissed out. He sighs, kisses the side of Jared's neck.

"I love you, Jared," he admits in a quiet voice. It's too soon, he thinks. Too much. But it's true, it's what he feels.

Jared hums, shifts back against him.

"Love you, too," he replies, a little slurred. He slips his hand down, curling his fingers around Jensen's wrist, and squeezes. "No matter what."

+

Jared is still in his arms when Jensen wakes up.

He yawns against Jared's shoulder, presses an open mouthed kiss to his skin, and drowsily lets his mind wander.

He loves waking up with Jared, curled up against him, and he loves it even more when it's the weekend. They can stay in bed for as long as they want to; eventually Jared will get up to let the dogs out, but he'll crawl right back into bed with Jensen and demand cuddles that Jensen gives him all too willingly, even though he sometimes pretends to be grumpy about it. There's nothing better than this though. Most days, it leads to lazy morning sex, their touches and kisses still a little sluggish as their bodies move together.

Just thinking about it now has heat settling in Jensen's stomach. He rolls his hips slowly, breathes out slowly as he nudges his half-hard cock between Jared's cheeks. He feels Jared stir in his arms, press back against him.

"Well, someone's up," Jared mumbles, words slurring together. Jensen laughs.

"How can I not be when I have a hot guy like you in my bed?" he asks.

"Insatiable," Jared replies. He turns his head, eyes in slits, and grins, tugging Jensen into a kiss with one hand reaching back. Jensen brushes their lips together.

"Morning," he murmurs.

"Morning," Jared says, and then his stomach grumbles loudly. Jensen snorts.

"Guess there go my plans for this morning," he teases.

"Shut up," Jared says, laughing. "I can't help it. I'm a growing boy."

"Thank god I know that's not true," Jensen replies, and pinches Jared's side.

Jared flips onto his back, grinning.

"Nope, it is. I'll grow and grow."

"Awww, babe, are you still hoping you'll be as tall as your brother one day so you won't be the runt of the family?"

"That's Megan," Jared counters. Then his expression shifts, the grin fading, and his eyes roam over Jensen's face. "Jensen?"

"What, sweetheart?" Jensen asks. He kisses Jared's forehead, nuzzles his hairline. "What's wrong?"

"How do you know how tall my brother is?" Jared asks.

"What? How can I not?" Jensen shoots back, but then he gets it. Gets what Jared is trying to say.

"And you called me sweetheart," Jared adds, and his voice breaks. Jensen feels like he's been punched in the stomach, and he pulls back. Jared is looking up at him with wide, wet eyes, his lips trembling.

"Jesus Christ," Jensen brings out.

"Jensen?" Jared catches his lower lip between his teeth, bites down. He looks vulnerable, so young. Young in a way Jared hasn't looked in a few years, and Jensen knows, knows because he remembers. Because every moment with Jared from the past few years is etched into his brain, so deep it seems impossible for him to ever forget. But he did.

"Shit, Jared," Jensen says. He gathers Jared close, holds him against himself tightly and buries one hand into Jared's hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You remember?" Jared asks, voice muffled, face buried in Jensen's shoulder.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," Jensen confirms. "It's all back, baby."

He tightens his hold when Jared shoulders shake, his body starting to tremble, and then he lets out a broken, painful sob.

+

"We should call people. You should see a doctor, have them check you out again," Jared says. His cheek is resting on a pillow, eyes fixed on Jensen. They're puffy and red from crying, his cheeks pale and a little blotchy, and his hair is a wild mess. He's so goddamn beautiful and Jensen still can't grasp the fact that he forgot all this, forgot Jared.

He cups Jared's face with one hand, strokes his cheek with his thumb and leans in to kiss him softly.

"In a bit," he whispers. "Later, okay? I just want to lie here with you for a little while longer. We've got some catching up to do, after all."

"It's not like we were ever apart," Jared points out, giving him a small smile.

"No," Jensen agrees. "And thank you for that. For sticking with me, taking care of me."

"What else would I have done?"

"Shipped me off to my parents," Jensen suggests. Jared shakes his head.

"No. Never," he says. "Not unless it had been what you wanted. I meant what I said, you were still Jensen, and I didn't love you any less because you lost your memories."

Jensen kisses him and then pulls him close, and Jared tugs his head under Jensen's chin.

"I'm a lucky bastard," Jensen says, carding his fingers through Jared's hair. He remembers saying similar words to Chris just a few days ago, and smiles because even then he knew how true it was.

"I love you," Jared murmurs.

"I love you too," Jensen replies, and kisses the top of Jared's head. "Loved you even when I didn't have my memories."

"Not at first," Jared says. He pulls back a little, tips his head back and grins, eyes still a little shiny. "The first morning you puked on me."

"You're going to use that against me for the rest of our lives."

"Yes," Jared says, nodding, his lips stretched into a wide grin, looking so happy it makes Jensen's chest ache. "For the rest of our lives."

Jensen knows Jared isn't talking about the prospective blackmailing material anymore. He nods.

"Yeah. I promise, Jay," he says and kisses him softly.


End file.
